


Same Rules Apply

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fuck Or Die, Imperius, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "A toy for my toy, isn't he beautiful? Aren't you excited to play with him?"Months of captivity have made him slow, so only then does Graves recognize the hallmarks of imperius. The stiff posture and clenched jaw of the mysterious redhead are a dead giveaway. There's a tug of pity in his chest; this is the first time Grindelwald has claimed a second victim. This is the first new face he has seen in months. He has a feeling it will be the last."Let's play a game, shall we?"





	

"In lieu of your recent good behavior lately, I've brought you a present."

Dreading what he's about to see, Graves opens his eyes and lifts his head. Grindelwald has fooled him time and time again with visions of his loved ones rescuing him only for them to fade away into mist when the cuffs around his wrists seemingly come off. This time, he doesn't even twitch. He stays, kneeling, as he always has. Back against the wall, arms suspended over his head.

The sight that greets him is unfamiliar: a man with bright red hair and green eyes is standing in front of him, hands balled at his sides. His expression is one of his pure fright, and he gazes down at Graves, shaking. A bloody, blue coat hangs unevenly from his shoulders, one sleeve slid half-way down his forearm.

Graves does not know this man. He wonders why Grindelwald is now making up people to torment him with. Perhaps he is bored. The wizard has resumed his usual place in the other end of the room, never one to get his hands dirty. He has always deliberately chosen to remain barely visible, only out of the corner of Graves' eye. This time, the smile he directs at Graves has a different lilt to it.

"A toy for my toy, isn't he beautiful? Aren't you excited to play with him?" Months of captivity have made him slow, so only then does Graves recognize the hallmarks of imperius. The stiff posture and clenched jaw are a dead giveaway. There's a tug of pity in his chest; this is the first time Grindelwald has claimed a second victim. This is the first new face he has seen in months. He has a feeling it will be the last. "Turn around, my boy, let's give him a reason to play."

The other male remains stiff, brows furrowed as he glances at Graves. The fact that his expressions have at least remained genuine is a telltale sign that he is able to fight the curse to some extent. But it's a losing battle (Graves would know, Grindelwald always wins) as he awkwardly steps, rotating stiffly so that Graves can see his back.

When the man slowly bows, jutting out his rear in the process, Graves roars, revulsion bubbling up in his throat. "You sick -- bastard --"

"So unappreciative," Grindelwald tsks, shaking his white-blond head. "And to think he doesn't like you, my sweet. You'll have to convince him, I suppose."

The slender man spins around again, shaking hands moving like they're being tugged by invisible strings. He pulls off his coat slowly, but his body is vibrating with such intensity from his efforts to shake off Grindelwald that Graves almost wants to plead with him to simply surrender. It will be easier that way. The man holds the rumpled coat at arm's length, freezing momentarily. And then tosses it near Graves' foot. His eyes are squeezed shut as he starts shucking off his suit jacket. He is most likely pretending to be somewhere else, far away. Graves is well accustomed to doing the same. Disgusted by the depths of Grindelwald's depravity, he looks down.

"At least try to enjoy the show, you ingrate." White hot pain hits Graves everywhere at once and he writhes in place, back jerking against the wall. Visibly horrified, the man watches him. Like many times before, Graves refuses to scream. He looks up and they lock eyes. Clearly both pitying the other.

"Now, my sweet, please continue. I apologize for our guest's rudeness."

The man's cheeks get progressively redder. His hands twist in the buttons of his vest rather than open them one by one. His constant rebellion is clearly vexing the dark wizard, who waves a hand and regains complete control of him in less than a moment. He straightens and his eyes go blank, and with a burst of strength he rips his own vest apart, buttons falling away. The white shirt is pulled up over his head and he obediently tugs off his shoes before stepping out of his trousers and underwear.

The body revealed before him is decorated with intersecting scars and freckles, overlaying ripples of muscle. There's a rich history to this man he will probably never know, but he can tell there is something especially pure about him, which Grindelwald wants eliminated immediately. And that, most of all, pains Graves more than any cruciatius ever will.

The man is crawling toward him on all fours, his movements not quite smooth as Grindelwald intends. Auburn hair hangs over his glassy eyes. His skin is pale, almost blinding in this dungeon, especially since Graves has not seen another human in months. He is as beautiful as any other mirage, and perhaps that's why Grindelwald chose him to destroy Graves and be destroyed by Graves in turn. They are just to more things to crash and burn together, the latest spectacle for Grindelwald's entertainment.

The man is mumbling something as he closes the distance between them. Until now, he's still fighting the imperius, and that would be admirable if Graves didn't already know those efforts will ultimately be in vain."Mr. Graves, my -- brother -- told me -- all about you." Pieces of information come together in his mind. His eyes widen and he lets out a sharp breath.

"Newton Scamander?" Very slowly -- an interceptible nod. Rigid fingers are slowly trailing up his legs, and Graves tries to shift away but they reach their destination, tugging open his trousers to expose his cock.

The flush deepens as Newt eyes it against his will. It is a rather fetching look on him, which only makes Graves feel sicker. In a different world they would have met under better circumstances. But in this one, he won't even be alive to apologize to Theseus for what he is about to do to his younger brother.

Newt makes a choking noise as Grindelwald's spell forces his head down. Green eyes widen with horror before he ducks violently and his mouth is pulled around Graves' cock. Graves tries to edge away, but to no avail. He cannot will himself to stay soft, either, and he can hear the muffled noises coming out of Newt as his member swells inside that soft mouth.

Graves knows there's no point in offering some sort of apology. He looks pityingly as Newt convulses, yet his body continues to betray him by engulfing as much of Graves' cock as it can. The warmth of his mouth is undeniably pleasurable, as is the firmness of the back of his throat. But Newt starts thrashing, emitting strangled noises as Grindelwald forces him to go deeper and deeper.

"Stop! Are you trying to kill him?!" Graves yells desperately. To his surprise Grindelwald releases Newt for the moment. The redhead pulls back with a gasp, leaving Graves' cock shiny with spit. He's still on all fours, naked on the floor. Graves watches the sharp retraction of his stomach as he gags, and when their gazes meet again, Newt's eyes are wet and his face is splotchy. He already looks destroyed, and they've only just begun.

So Graves stalls.

"Why him? I've never even met him."

"Because he's been a thorn in our side since he first arrived," Grindelwald answers tonelessly. "Because our little _magizoologist_ here," he spits out the world like it's a slur. "Took away from me something I wanted. Destroyed it." His gaze hardens and then Newt collapses on his side with a shudder, mouth open in a silent scream.

"Stop," Graves pleads. Even on his first day, Grindelwald wasn't this barbarous. But here he is hitting Newt with unforgiveables left and right. What could someone this innocent possibly have done?

Newt curls in on himself, groaning. Laughter emanates from the corner. "Oh, now you're begging for him? Even though he's the reason you won't be getting out of here alive. Thanks to him, I have no more use for you."

"I know that already." Something snaps inside of Graves, the final shred of hope, most probably -- Grindelwald had often suggested letting him free someday. But a thought reminds him that he always knew this was coming. He wasn't getting out of here alive, despite the instinctual hope telling him otherwise. There's no time to reflect on his short life and its miserable ending.

Newt's groaning is getting louder and sounding more broken.

"But clearly his mind is valuable. Why break it when you can use it?" Appeal to his cause, like Graves has been trying to do for months: insist that talented wizards are a waste if they are simply killed. That one less wizard means more power for no-majs. It's a logic that has saved many of Graves' coworkers' lives, each he had to bargain for and receive Cruciatus in return. 

Grindelwald's moustache curls as his mouth forms a wicked grin. "Sharp as always, Percival. I suppose you can have your toy now."

Newt is forced to a crawl again, body contorting irregularly as he heaves himself onto Graves' lap. He's breathing heavily, eyes wild with fear and Graves can only watch. His mannequin-turned body is positioned taut right over Graves' cock, the head nudging against his unyielding hole. Newt struggles, but his hands are pinned to his sides as if they've been tied down.

"Ooh, this is going to be painful," comes Grindelwald's taunt. "It's a shame his foreplay left a lot to be desired, hmm? Better luck next time, perhaps."

Newt is visibly panicking, rivulets of sweat running down the sides of his face as pleading eyes silently beg Graves for help.

"Calm down," he says as soothingly as he can. "You must -- be calm, or else --" The pressure against his cock builds, with Grindelwald already forcing Newt downward. The magizoologist lets out a strangled noise as he descends onto Graves' cock, the head pushing him open before his shaft is engulfed along with it.

Graves stifles a groan of pleasure as it would be further insult to Newt, whose writhing is worse than earlier, small pained noises escaping him now even though he's biting his lips to keep from making a sound.

Newt gasps when he's fully seated, pressing down on Graves' legs. They're eye level now and Graves closes his eyes shamefully, his hard cock twitching inside Newt, who is so blissfully tight around him that he can barely think past his euphoria.

When he opens his eyes, Newt is openly weeping.

"Mr. Scamander here has just granted you the gift of his virginity. Try to look a little alive, Percival."

"It doesn't hurt, I am f-fine," Newt mumbles, sounding almost drunk from the pain. It's a lousy lie, one meant to reassure Graves but it only makes him detest himself more. A part of him wants to buck, wants to thrust inside Newt, or tear off these shackles so he can get Newt on his back and fuck him the way he wants to. Months of no physical interaction has left him feeling drugged from overstimulation.

Grindelwald, determined not to be forgotten, calls out to them both. "When he's properly slick, it will be my turn, and then you can be the one to watch. Lucky for us, he is a toy meant to be shared."

Newt shudders, the tremors causing him to clamp down around Graves' cock. He cannot stop the moan from spilling from his lips, and when Newt looks at him, utterly betrayed, he shakes his head furiously. He's in as much control as Newt is, having been Grindelwald's plaything for much longer. He cannot save himself, much less this stranger he met only minutes ago. Most likely, Grindelwald will have them kill each other once he's taken everything. At this rate, he wouldn't mind going, with Newt's delicate hands around his neck. 

All thoughts disappear when the lithe body is lifted from his cock, before pressing down again, Newt whimpering all the while as the flush lights up his whole body. Graves is left dazed by the motions, his cock aching when it springs free, only to send spikes of pleasure up his spine when Newt sinks down again. And again, and again.

The movements are less halting, appearing more practiced as Grindelwald has Newt riding Graves' cock and Newt fighting very little, now. He can't help but notice that Newt's length is hardening as well.

"That's all him, not me. You must be flattered," Grindelwald cuts in with an obnoxious chuckle.

Newt sobs, mouth and eyes wet as his actions hasten. He continues fucking himself and Graves is consumed with pleasure, finding less and less sympathy for Newt's abused hole and overall state of embarrassment. Instead he wants to see it red and leaking his fluids. He throws his head back, accidentally smacking it against the wall but both of them are too far gone to remember pain. Newt's desperate gasps sync with his.

Graves forgets for a moment that Grindelwald is in the room. He is fucking someone gorgeous; he is not about to die. They are frozen in pleasure together as Graves spurts inside Newt, coating his insides with fluids. Newt's hands are finally free, and he palms himself roughly as he rides out the tail end of Graves' orgasm. Graves is not sure whether Newt is working himself or if it's still one of Grindelwald's manipulations, but eventually the other man closes his eyes, an almost peaceful look on his face as he comes.

They remain still, Newt's shoulders hunching in exhaustion and Graves leaning back against the wall, resigned. He decides he will count Newt's freckles while waiting for death. It won't seem too bad that way. It will be like counting down the seconds until the bad dream ends.

Grindelwald interrupts their silence and applauds mockingly. "After that performance, how can I even compete? Oh, Percy, looks like you broke your little toy already. He looks prettier that way, though."

When Newt raises his head, Graves expects to see nothing but listlessness. The swaying of his body indicates that he is a few seconds from passing out. But Newt's face is inches away and Graves is rendered speechless by the fieriness in his eyes. Shaking arms settle on Graves' shoulders, Newt falling forward until their chests touch in a surprisingly intimate move that Grindelwald, for once, did not induce.

Newt's breaths are shallow but warm against his cheek.

"You're -- free," Newt pants, faint enough for only Graves to hear.

"What?"

Newt nuzzles his cheek against his jaw. His soft skin scrapes against the patches of a captivity-grown beard.

"He didn't see," Newt tells him. "Bowtruckle in my coat -- broke your chains." Graves stills. The slightest nudge proves that Newt has been telling the truth. The metal around his wrists feels loose.

Which means Newt had known this whole time. And prolonged it as much as possible for this reason.

"Make. Your. Move," Newt says hoarsely. Against the side of Graves' face, his eyes flutter closed and he collapses against the bigger male. A slow heartbeat sits mere inches from his own. There's a heavy weight on his chest, yet Graves suddenly feels lighter than he has in months.

Grindelwald is leering from across the room. Graves flicks a wrist ever so slightly, and his magic travels across the room to enact months' worth of fantasies snapping Grindelwald's neck.

He'll get to apologize to Theseus in person, at least.


End file.
